Booze and Me: A Love Story
"Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." - Ben Franklin
“Here's to alcohol: the cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems.” - Homer Simpson
I like to drink. In fact, I’ll go a step further and say I love to drink. Alcohol and I have a love affair that goes all the way back to my junior year of high school. And while we hit a few bumps in the road early on, we stayed together, ironed out our problems, matured, and grew into a life-long relationship.
I fully realize how wrong it is to admit this in America, 2007. Publicly say that you like to drink and there’ll be somebody somewhere who won’t rest until you’re either getting your mail at the Bridgewater Addiction Center or standing at a podium in some church basement next to a chalkboard with the Twelve Steps on it, baring your soul to a group of coffee-guzzling strangers.
It doesn’t matter to these people that alcohol consumption has been around since civilization itself. Or that there are anthropologists who’ll tell you that beer-making basically created modern man. That the desire to grow crops, harvest them and ferment them into beer brought an end to mankind’s nomadic existence. And that back in the Fertile Crescent, the day after the first microbrew batch came out, a bunch of guys from Tigris Tech invited the sorority sisters from Euphrates U. over for a toga party, and the Cradle of Civilization was born.
There’s a certain look the Twelve Steppers give a guy when he admits he drinks. I know that look; I know it too well. A few years ago I had a friend of the family doing some work on my house. I was coming home from a day of golfing with my father-in-law, and we had stopped at the 19th hole for a couple of beers. And when I say “a couple” I mean one, followed by another one. Not “a couple” as in “Ossifer, I know it looks bad that I smashed my car into the playground and I smell like the floor of a brewery, but I only had a couple of beers.” I mean literally I had two. And when I walked in the house, the first words out of Mr. Reformed was “You been drinking?” Not even a “hello”; just that look of condescension most recovering alcoholics have mastered. In my own home. I know enough about this guy’s past that I could’ve said “Yeah, but at least tonight I won’t end up on lower Washington Street tonight playing grabass with a tranny hooker,” but I think I let it slide instead.
I want to have sympathy for the non-drinkers out there, I really do. But I save my compassion for the ones who keep their failings with the bottle to themselves. It’s harsh to say it, but some of us can handle Demon Rum and some can’t. That’s life. Personally, I can’t water ski. I wish I could, but I can’t. I tried it as a teenager, in college, as an adult…whatever skill set you need to get up on the damned things, I don’t possess. But I sure don’t begrudge people who can. If someone says they like to water ski, I don’t start lecturing them on the dangers of water skiing or say they’re in denial of their water skiing problem or quote them water skiing related death statistics or talk about how the families of water skiers suffer as a result of their self-destructive behavior.
But the simple fact is that I don’t really trust people who never drink. I’m not saying we should all be pouring bourbon on our buttermilks every morning, I’m just talking about the people who never, ever touch a drop. Frankly I wonder what those people are trying to hide. Because I’m convinced that the person you are when you’re drunk is a lot closer to the person you really are than the way you act every day.
The single most overused cliché in the world is the “Wizard of Oz” “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain“ thing. (In fact, I’m calling for a constitutional amendment to ban its use.) But in this case it’s the perfect metaphor. Booze pulls the curtain back on people and shows us what’s really going on inside their head, a lot more so than the big, impressive wizard face they show us when they’re sober.
I’m convinced that drinking doesn’t make you do things you don’t want to do; it makes you lose your inhibitions and do the things you won’t let yourself do otherwise. We’ve all seen it. It’s why some girls will sleep around when they’re under the influence; the alcohol releases their inner ho. I know a middle aged married guy, who when he’s out drinking after work, has a penchant for feeling up his co-workers and sticking his tongue in their mouths. I also know a girl who’s had drunken hysterical pregnancies. And I’ve heard of a practicing attorney who after a half dozen cocktails, walked right up to a complete stranger in a bar and punched him in the face for no reason other than his own inner turmoil.
As anyone who’s ever drank with me at a Barstool party will tell you, when I’m in the Grip of the Grape, I become debonair and sophisticated. Because deep down that’s what I am: refined and classy, with an irresistible, rakish wit that everyone loves. (Or my inner Irishman comes out and I just annoy everyone, I’m not sure.) Like I said, some of us can handle the booze and some can’t. When some people drink they have harmless fun, some invent imaginary fetuses, some get violent and some grope tranny hookers.
Admit it, there are some situations when alcohol is the only way to have fun. The trophy for Worst Wedding Ever was retired by a guy I grew up with. His wife and mother-in-law chose to have a dry wedding. Not because they’re alcoholics, but because they’re Born Again Christians. I’m no New Testament scholar, but I’m pretty sure that Jesus drank. (Though he didn’t water ski. There’s nothing in there about Him on the Sea of Galilee with the Apostles in the boat ahead of him, rowing like maniacs. But I digress.) In fact, it was at a wedding that He turned water into wine, because even in 30 A.D. they knew the only way sane people can sit through the pictures, the toast, the bouquet toss and the “Hi Ho the Derrio” thing is with a blood alcohol of .10 or higher. And they were right. At my friend’s booze-less wedding, some guests were grabbing drinks out of their cars, some crashed the wedding next door, some just left. But sitting through that nonsense sober was an option only for a hearty few.
There are plenty of moments like that in life that only sweet sweet booze can make worth living. So all the people who want to lecture me about drinking, save your breath. Life is short, and I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts. If I’m going to live my life by the title of a TV Land sitcom, it’s not going to be “One Day at a Time,” it’ll be “Good Times” or “Happy Days.”
Cheers.